Out of the Hands of Babes
by SixesandSevens
Summary: Season 2, Canon/AU. Shane's been butting heads with just about everyone lately, but he seems to have really set his sights on Daryl.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I know I've started another story! Don't worry, I'll continue to work on Paying the Price and I will be picking Fear and Self-loathing back up soon, too. This story is a bit different. It's my first collaboration! I agreed to write this idea for dimegurl and we couldn't wait till my other stories were done before we started on this! This is her story, I'm just writing it for her, so she'll be beta'ing it for me, as well as, approving all chapters before they're posted and providing story points. So when reviewing, please give her some much deserved credit too! We're excited to be working on this together and it's been a lot of fun. We hope you all like it too!_

 _Enjoy! :)_

"Daryl!"

 _Jesus Christ, what now?_ Daryl thought suppressing a groan, turning around to face the other man.

"What do you want, Shane? Wasting daylight here." He said in annoyance.

"Yeah, well that's a matter of opinion." Shane bit back. "What's your angle here, huh man? Getting peoples' hopes up, spouting off with fool-ass stories about some hidey-hole in a cupboard? Rick's got his head so far up his ass with guilt over loosing that girl, I'm trying to make him see reason here; it's over! She's gone! And you," he shoved an accusing finger in Daryl's face, "saying all that shit ain't helping matters!"

"You got some nerve." Daryl growled, knocking Shane's hand away. He couldn't believe this guy. "We got a little girl missing and a possible lead; yeah, maybe it wasn't her that hid out in that farm house, but maybe it was. I ain't about to miss out on a chance to find her. Sophia's out there somewhere and I intend to find her. I don't give a shit what you do." With that he turned on his heel, hiking the strap of his crossbow further up his shoulder and continued toward the stables, seething.

"Fucking prick." Daryl muttered angrily, loudly enough to be sure Shane could hear him. He reached the stables, picked a horse at random and set about getting it ready to saddle, still brimming with anger. He didn't get Shane's problem. How could the man want to give up the search already? It'd only been four days for god's sake! Which, okay, four days was plenty of time to get into trouble out there, but that's why they had no more time to waste. And what harm was there in looking anyway? First off, they should give Sophia every chance of rescue they possibly could. Second of all, what else were they gonna do around here? Things were already pretty well set up at this farm as far as he could tell. There was no reason they couldn't devote their resources to looking for a lost child and keep still keep things running in camp.

"Whatever. Fuck him!" Daryl slapped the saddle on the mare in a huff, causing her to whinny and shy away. He should probably calm down. No sense in getting the 1,000 pound animal he was about to ride off on all riled up.

* * *

Shane scowled as he watched Daryl disappearing into the woods on one of Hershel's horses. As far as he was concerned that redneck was becoming more trouble than he was worth. Sure he was the best tracker they had, and their only seasoned hunter, but they could make do without him. He could hunt well enough, and Rick could too. Maybe they weren't as good as Daryl, but they could figure it out.

And as it turned out, Daryl was self-righteous. Wasn't that a fucking joke! He was just so convinced that they, no _he_ would find Sophia, and that she'd be _alive._ It was becoming a problem. People were starting to respect him. Value his opinion. Trust him. Rick especially. He was looking to him more and more, and looking to Shane less and less.

Shane could see the merit of his own opinions and authority crumbling before his very eyes within this group. He knew some of that was due to the growing rift between him and Rick, but then there was Daryl, just so conveniently slipping right into that gap almost from the very moment he and Rick had met. Something had happened on that run into Atlanta to garner a grudging respect between the two men. They still butted heads more often than not before leaving the quarry, but Shane had known Rick since they were kids, he could see the change plain as day. And now, it was getting to where that respect really wasn't so grudging anymore.

It left a sour taste in his mouth.

So yeah, Shane couldn't help but think that Daryl had a lot to do with the fact that he was being edged out.

"Shane!" Andrea called, "You coming? We're about to head out."

Rubbing the back of his head, he sighed and sullenly marched over to where the rest of the search party was gathered, blue and red strips of cloth being distributed to their designated groups. Time to go searching for more ghosts.

* * *

It'd be a peaceful day out in these woods if a lost, little girl's fate didn't hang in the balance. Daryl wouldn't allow himself to give up on Sophia, the kid deserved a chance; but they'd lost her trail days ago and he was just circling blindly, hoping to catch any shred of evidence she'd been in the area, he couldn't help but feel a bit discouraged when every yard he passed yielded no results.

Like he'd told the others, it only stood to reason that she'd stay near the water, follow it like a path. He could only hope he was right, which was how he found himself traversing the edge of a ravine the creek cut through, peering all around when something caught his eye. A flash of blue amongst the green foliage, the barest glimmer of blonde hair; there one moment, gone the next. His heart skipped a beat in his chest, adrenaline rising with renewed hope.

He'd spotted her.

He'd found her.

But she was getting away, either she hadn't seen him, and was still trying to pick her way back or she'd gotten scared and ran. He couldn't let her get away. Giving a swift kick, he spurred the horse onwards, the animal quickening its pace to a brisk trot.

"Sophia!" He yelled as loud as he could, fearing losing his chance to find her more than bringing on walkers. "Sophia! Come back!" All at once, the horse reared up braying frantically.

"Woah!" Daryl shouted as he struggled for purchase. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a snake slithering quickly away. The mare started bucking wildly, and Daryl clung to it, desperately trying to keep from being thrown. But he couldn't hold on as the beast underneath him writhed furiously, determined on dislodging its passenger. He flew off, sailing several feet to crash into the ground, knocking the air straight out of his lungs, his head slamming down onto something _hard_ with a resounding crack. An intense pain exploded in his head bringing darkness with it, swift and overwhelming. Through the agony he could still hear the horse screaming, loud and high pitched.

He never knew a horse's screams could sound so human.


	2. Chapter 2

The horse was still screaming.

A veil of darkness pressed over him, muffling sound and thought, distorting perception and reason. He felt detached and disoriented, seemingly unable to locate his limbs or his body, and wasn't that a strange feeling?

"Mr. Dixon!"

Now the horse was talking to him. And since fucking _when_ did horses start talking?

"Mr. Dixon! Wake up! Please, please wake up!"

The ground started shaking then. It was a horribly unpleasant sensation. Dizzying and nauseating and sending him into a sickening whirl, and he felt like the vibrations coming from the ground might just shatter him into pieces or send him flying off the face of the earth.

That damn horse was crying now.

Through the turbulence, the distant thought reached him that none of that made any damn sense, he lay there willing his fingers to manifest and dig into the dirt, keep him grounded, keep him whole. As he held on, he tried to grasp the meaning of it; he could feel it flitting at the edges of his awareness, just out of reach.

"Mr. Dixon, please. You have to wake up."

 _Sophia!_

It all came back in a rush, his head throbbing with the intensity of it. Spotting Sophia through the brush, the snake, the horse throwing him. It'd never been the horse screaming or, god help him, _talking_ to him. It'd been Sophia the whole time. Poor thing must be scared out of her mind, and now here he was lying useless, no help to anybody, giving the girl hope and then taking it away. She was right. He had to wake up. He had to get her back.

She was shaking him again, only this time he knew it for what it was, and it was doing nothing to aid his process of waking, just making him feel terribly sick. His body was rebelling, not obeying his commands at all, and his attempts to open his eyes and move his arms failed. With a tremendous effort, he tried to get his mouth working instead, finally managing to get out a few words so slurred he was almost certain she wouldn't understand them.

"Sp shkig m, gl."

The shaking immediately stopped, so maybe she'd understood after all, or maybe she just hadn't been expecting any reaction out of him and been startled.

"Mr. Dixon?" her words were filled with concern and hope. "Can you hear me?"

"Hr ya." There. That was a little better, a little clearer. Even he could tell that his speech was still a bit jumbled, but at least he'd said actual words this time, more or less. He tried getting his eyes to open again, peeling the lids apart slowly. When he finally did, he was assaulted with bright sunlight, making his head ache something fierce. He wanted nothing more than to close them again and go to sleep, block out the offending light, block out the pain. But something nagged at the back of his mind, reminding him he couldn't. He had something to do. Something important. So by sheer force of will he kept them open, letting the sun beat into his retinas, scorching them.

God, this was exhausting.

It took several moments, but the world finally came into focus around him, a small dirty face framed with short blonde hair appearing before him. Sophia. Right. He'd found her. He'd found her and he had to get her back to the farm.

"Sophia." He assessed her physical wellbeing as best he could without having to move his head, he could only see her upper half, but from what he could tell she seemed all right. A little worse for wear, but overall fine. Thank Christ.

"Where are the others?" Sophia asked hesitantly. "Is my mom, ok?"

"She's worried about you, but she's fine."

Then the girl burst out crying again and talking so fast it made his head spin, and his mind was still so sluggish he could hardly keep up. "I was so scared. I didn't think anyone would ever find me! It's been so long, I don't even know how many days. I thought I was gonna die out here! And then you found me, Mr. Dixon! But your horse ran away, and you wouldn't wake up, and you were bleeding everywhere! And you're still bleeding! Are you ok, Mr. Dixon?"

He snorted at the mere idea that she was asking after him. "Should be asking you that. M'fine."

She didn't really look like she believed him. He should probably get up now. It'd go a long way to convincing her. Truth is, he wasn't fine. The ribs in his back were nicely bruised, if not actually cracked, and he knew he had to have one hell of a concussion. He vaguely wondered what he'd hit his head on anyway. But this poor girl had been through enough; she didn't need him pissing and moaning about his own pains, didn't need him scaring her any more than she already was. She needed him to get her home, safely, to her mother.

Gingerly he sat up then got himself into a kneeling position, halting there under the guise of talking to Sophia, but really he needed to give the woods a chance to stop swaying so much. Somewhere in all the motion, he caught sight of a sturdy looking tree branch with a patch of fresh blood on it. Bemused, he lifted a hand to the right side of his head, wincing at the contact. His fingers came away sticky and red. Daryl looked to the girl again, she sat there staring at him expectantly, her doll clutched tightly to her chest.

"You ok, you hurt at all?"

She shook her head no, hazel eyes wide. "I'm hungry."

Damn. He should have brought some food with him, should've known she'd be hungry when he found her. He had a squirrel he'd shot earlier, but he doubted she'd want to eat it raw, and he really didn't trust his ability to start a fire right at the moment. At the very least he should have brought some water, but he didn't have any of that either. "Tell you what. We found a farm. There's some good people there, they took us in. It's real nice, and they've got food. Everybody's there, waiting on us."

"Really?" She sounded like she was afraid to believe it.

"Yeah. Come on, let's get you back to your mama." Easier said than done. He took it slow, keeping his head as still and steady as possible, in the end it didn't really make a difference. The nausea he'd been trying to push back suddenly gripped him again with renewed ferocity as he attempted to stand. The ground tilted precariously beneath his feet; still he managed to get himself upright, only to promptly double over retching violently. Once his stomach was finally done turning itself inside out, he stood there chest heaving and hands on his knees, doing his best to keep from falling out right then and there.

Dimly he became aware of Sophia again, the little girl calling out to him with worry. "Mr. Dixon? Mr. Dixon! Are you ok?"

"Name's Daryl." He mumbled, carefully straightening up again, hoping his stomach contents would stay where they were supposed to be this time.

"Here." Sophia's voice sounded timidly from next to him. He glanced over to see her holding his crossbow out to him, gripped tightly in both hands. She was barely able to even lift the heavy weapon high enough for him to take it from her. He just stared at her stupidly, surprised that she would even try fetching his bow for him. What a piss poor rescue mission this was turning out to be.

"I think you have a concussion, Mr. Di… I mean, Daryl. You probably shouldn't be bending over to pick things up." She said by way of explanation, as if he needed one. Which clearly he did, standing there gaping at her like an idiot and letting this little stick of a child continue holding up his crossbow. He finally reached out and took it from her.

"I ain't got a concussion." Daryl denied petulantly.

"Yes, you do!" Sophia exclaimed in a way only a child could. "I've seen my mom get them before. You're acting the way she would when she had one."

Her words only served to anger him. Fucking Ed. Stupid sorry sack of shit, beating on his own family. There was no use in getting pissed over it though. Sophia didn't need his anger, and Ed was gone, so he let it go for now. He was too tired and in too much pain to stew about it right now anyway. They needed to get moving, he'd had enough time to collect himself since his little bout with unconsciousness. Concussion or not, it was time to switch the roles back here, time to man up. Sophia may not have a head wound, but she was still exhausted, dehydrated, hungry, scared. It was all written plain as day on her face.

"Come on, let's get outta here." Daryl said turning to head back toward the farm, waiting to make sure Sophia fell into step beside him.


End file.
